


The Perilous Honeymoon

by tonks77



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221B Baker Street, 221C Baker Street, All The Ships, Alternate Universe, Bored Sherlock, Dancing, Disguise, F/M, Flashbacks, Gen, Honeymoon, It's For a Case, Light Angst, Lonely Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson Ships It, Murder Mystery, Original Character(s), POV Third Person, Parental Mrs. Hudson, Post-Episode: s03e02 The Sign of Three, Reader-Insert, Romance, Scared Sherlock, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Tags Are Hard, light fluff, newlyweds, optional reader-insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-07 13:12:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10361253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonks77/pseuds/tonks77
Summary: With John and Mary away on their honeymoon, Sherlock has reached a whole new level of boredom. Can investigating a string of murders in a tourist town with his newfound crush cure his restlessness, or will it prove too fatal?(Brief summaries are hard)





	1. Prologue: About Felicity

**Author's Note:**

> Although it might not fit exactly with the canon timeline, this takes place in the two weeks following the wedding. This is before and possibly the beginning (to remain spoiler free) of when Sherlock pretends to be in love with Jenny. I’m going to include a little backstory and bio about Felicity to introduce you to her as chapter one that way we can jump right in the story without any confusion. By all means if you would like to substitute yourself as Felicity as you are reading this fic in your head, go right ahead :) Sherlock belongs to its creators and BBC, and the original Sherlock Holmes belongs to Arthur Conan Doyle. Original characters and this particular story are my own. Also a disclaimer: I am not a linguist and commas are my mortal enemy. Kindly disregard errors and if it bothers you enough give me a shout out and I will happily fix mistakes :) I’m so excited to share this story with everyone! Enjoy!
> 
> This chapter is just a little introduction to my original character, Felicity. It is likely that I’m going to do other fics involving her, but for the time being I just want to give a brief summary about who she is :)

             Felicity is a forensic scientist 4 years younger than Sherlock Holmes. She is originally from America and moved to Britain for college. She ended up getting a job at Scotland Yard and stayed because she enjoyed London and the excitement of her work. Sherlock met her only a year before meeting John, and they immediately hit it off (much like he did with John). Felicity is very intelligent and observant, and Sherlock often seeks her opinion and help with cases. She also joins John and Sherlock sometimes just to visit as friends, and they are all 3 very close friends. Felicity currently resides in 221C Baker Street.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m really happy with how this is turning out! I’m excited with how the next chapters are coming along! Enjoy!!

**221B Baker Street.**

Sherlock Holmes was bored. He had been bored many times before, but this was an entirely new level of boredom. He was lying awkwardly on the sofa across from the fireplace. His legs and feet were resting on the wall and his body perpendicular, head dangling off the seat towards the ground. The six nicotine patches up his arm had him in a slightly mellowed state. However, nicotine patches weren’t strong enough to help him eliminate the most pressing problem. The words of Mrs. Hudson rang in his head, and he pondered the possibility that his adventures with John could be over forever now. _Marriage changes people._

Of course, he had been living by himself since he “came back from the dead”, but John was usually a text away. The wedding signified the end of an era and the impending baby verified that. Sherlock was happy for them, but he couldn’t help feeling a little selfish. He knew when they got back from the honeymoon things would somewhat go back to normal until the baby arrived. But after that, John and Mary might be a little more reluctant to join him in his often dangerous endeavors. Sherlock desperately wanted to video chat John or text him to discuss possible cases, but John made the consulting detective promise not to bother him with cases during his 2-week holiday with his new wife. So instead he pointed his gun upside down and contemplated the chances of hitting the beaker sitting on the kitchen counter.

He couldn’t believe it had only been 15 hours since he left the wedding and he already felt lonely. Not that he would ever admit to that. Why did John have to be so selfish and leave him? Didn’t he know how terribly bored he was?  He crossed his arms and silently pouted in his solitude. He considered texting Felicity, but he felt a little nervous after the moment they shared last night. Once he returned home after leaving the reception, he received a text message from her.

_Hey, I heard you left early. I didn’t see you leave, but then again I was probably hiding. I can only handle so much socialization in one day. You owe me a dance. –Felicity_

 He swallowed hard just thinking about it. He went back and forth for hours trying to think about what to say. The Woman was different, he could just ignore her. For the most part. She was just a simple crush; with the lives they live they could never truly be together. But Felicity was a very good friend. He cared about her feelings. Deep down he knew that he had a soft spot for her that he has never quite had for anyone before, but he did his best to repress it. Repressing it was the only way to avoid getting hurt. However, he sometimes found himself having a battle within his mind palace, weighing the risks of something as insignificant as _romance._ It wasn’t necessarily the idea of love that terrified him, it was more the risks that come with it. He does have several people in his life that he loves; John, Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft (as much as he hates it). But that love came with hazards. On more than one occasion he has seen their lives in danger because of him, and part of him struggled to do that to someone on a romantic level.

Ultimately he would always talk himself out of it. He is married to his work and his work is everything. But sometimes, _damn it_ , sometimes he just couldn’t help himself. Stupid testosterone. Stupid hormones clouding his brilliant mind. He just couldn’t help showing off in front of her, like a peacock displaying his feathers. During the rare times he could read her he knew that she was attracted to intelligence. How could someone of such high mental capacity not be? And she definitely liked it when people were kind. So he tried his hardest not to be so cold when she was around, but luckily it seemed that with her the kindness came naturally. Like the time he promised to teach Felicity how to dance if the opportunity ever arose.

That was it. He had been thinking about her way longer than acceptable for one day. Cases and John distracted him from this kind of dangerous thinking. But with no case worth investigating and his best friend gone, he couldn’t allow himself any more precarious thoughts like this today. There were most important things to do. He scrolled through his website for cases twice before giving up. He groaned in defeat of himself and picked up his mobile phone.

_Are you busy? –SH_

Now sitting sunken in his chair, his legs spread far and wide, he wondered if he should get dressed. He had on his pajamas and signature robe, but he didn’t really care and he knew it was very likely that Felicity, if she showed up, would also be in her pajamas. That was always one benefit of her company, mutual acceptance of anything considered strange by the standards of a narrow mind.

 Of course, Sherlock knew she wasn’t busy. Today was Sunday morning, and on any typical Sunday morning she would wake up at 8:00am and immediately read her bible until approximately 9:15. At this time which she would pray for 12-18 minutes depending on how stressful her week has been. Considering the wedding ending late it is probable that her schedule would have shifted forward about an hour and fifty minutes and her prayer time would be extended to the maximum 18 minutes to pray for the newlyweds and nearly murdered Sholto. So considering this information, she would have carried on with her normal morning routine which would involve her in earshot of her phone in approximately—

_Ding!_

Man, he loved his deduction skills. He picked up his phone.

            _Not at all. Is everything ok? –Felicity_

 _Yes. Come here if convenient. –SH_  

**221C Baker Street.**

            “ _It probably wasn’t anything personal. Conversing is just not his thing._ _Once the real party began you hid in the bathroom for goodness sake’s and only retreated because you wanted cake,”_ Felicity thought to herself as she attempted to awaken from her deep stress-induced slumber. Weddings always put Felicity in this kind of mood. While she has more important things in her life that usually distract her from her solitude, sometimes it caught up with her. She had spent most of her life single, only getting into a few short flings and one long term relationship, all which ended badly. She found it very difficult to find someone who was interesting and quickly learned that few men were likeminded to her in any way. Almost every man she has encountered has had an impressive amount of turn offs in her opinion. She couldn’t deal with alcoholics, druggies, or partiers. That screamed stupidity on every level. As far as personality goes, quite frankly most people were just plain uninteresting. She yearned to talk about deep things and hypothetical things and academic things. Of course she also loved joking around and talking about more light things such as books and television, but she stayed out of politics and sports were a drag. What is a life to live with someone when all you have to talk about are mundane topics? And why on Earth would you live with someone who isn’t well-rounded enough to hold an interesting conversation? She had considered the possibility that maybe the problem was her and maybe she just wasn’t likable to those deep thinkers out there. But while she was very shy and introverted, she was always kind and loving to everyone she encountered. So maybe the problem wasn’t her after all.

            This is why her weakness was Sherlock Holmes. Oh dear Sherlock Holmes. She hadn’t always been aware of her crush, but once she discovered it there was no denying it. She couldn’t believe she fell for a drug user, she vowed to herself she would never _ever_ date a man who has even touched drugs. But she learned to make an exception. However, none of this mattered, because she knew she wasn’t going to make a first move. She definitely and very clearly flirted with him, but she figured the feelings were probably unrequited. There was nothing special about her to make her stand out from the line of women pining over Sherlock Holmes.

            The issues of love and loneliness plagued her all morning into early afternoon until her phone buzzed. It was Sherlock. A crooked smile formed upon her soft face and her heart dropped into her stomach.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love how as I write Felicity is developing that same sense of superiority that Sherlock is so well known for. I think that part of the reason they bond is because they are both slightly narcissistic, albeit in some different ways. I didn't initially plan it, but its funny how they both see themselves as beyond human in ways (although they are both very much human). I’m having a great time writing this! I didn't get to fit much dialogue in this chapter, but I felt like I needed exposition to set the scene. Don't worry, there will be plenty of dialogue and witty Sherlock moments to come soon ;) I do hope you all enjoy and let me know what you think :)

10 minutes. 10 miniscule minutes was too long for Sherlock to wait. Felicity had just finished brushing her teeth when she caught the very faint scent of cigarette smoke and… was that formaldehyde? “Great,” she thought, “now John is going to be at my throat for letting him smoke.” She glanced over at her phone which was continually buzzing on the rim of the bathtub.  
Where are you? –SH  
I’m bored. –SH  
Seriously I am just up the stairs. –SH  
Do you have any acetone? –SH  
Never mind, I found a better alternative. –SH  
I will be RIGHT THERE, you man child. –Felicity  
She was nearly finished combing her hair when she heard Mrs. Hudson screeching in a motherly tone, “SHERLOCK HOLMES! That had better not be cigarette smoke I smell!” This nearly made Felicity double over laughing as she slid on her house slippers on her way towards the door. That is, until she heard the sound of gunshots and ceramic breaking. She lunged herself towards the ground covering her head in response and waited for the nearby gunfire to cease. She crawled over to the sofa and pulled her own pistol out from the hidden compartment underneath before jumping up and bolting towards the foyer, leaving the door swinging in the frame behind her. What if something is wrong or someone dangerous has Sherlock captive? What if the reason he has been texting her is because he is truly in trouble and couldn’t directly say it? She nearly broke down the door at the end of the hall.  
“Sherlock?!” She choked, adrenaline flooding her body. She looked around the flat. There was no sign of him or anything amiss. She sprinted back the hall, an entirely new strain of worries crossing her mind, and stopped when she saw a light creeping out from under the bathroom door. The door was cracked and she heard no sign of imminent danger, so she opened the door with her gun in a readied position.  
Sherlock’s thin frame was laying in the bathtub in his trademark position with 3 cigarettes protruding from his mouth. His hands were folded together as if he were praying and his maintained eye contact with the ceiling. He was fully clothed, yet the bathroom was nearly overflowed with steamy water. His gun lay on the rug beside him and shattered china littered the floor. There was a couple of flasks and beakers set up on the toilet seat and a Bunsen burner lit adjacent to it. Felicity couldn’t help but choke from the thick smoke in the room.  
“Oh good. You’re here.” Sherlock, breaking his trance, said to Felicity who eyed him in disbelief.  
“Sherlock, what the HELL?!” She exclaimed, “You nearly gave me a heart attack.” Her voice cracked as the adrenaline faded away and her emotions took over.  
“I was bored; you were taking far too long to fix your hair.” He stated.  
“You’re point?” She almost dared him to answer that.  
“You’re here now.” He responded, finally making eye contact with her. That’s what pushed her frustration over the edge. She reached over to the counter, grabbed his hairbrush, and furiously threw it at him. It bounced off his head and fell into the water, eliciting no immediate response from Sherlock. They both were silent for a moment, except for the sound of Felicity still panting for air.  
“Your hair looks unsurpassed.” He admitted, breaking the awkward silence. Felicity couldn’t help but laugh a little.  
“You idiot.” She replied, this made them both giggle, and for a moment they held each other’s eyes before quickly looking away.  
“So, why are you in the bathtub?” Felicity asked as she walked over to turn off the Bunsen burner.  
“I needed a change of scenery to think.” He replied indifferently.  
“As to why you are still clothed?” she inquired as she began to clean up his mess.  
“Didn’t notice.” He said, as Felicity offered him a hand. He pulled himself out of the bathtub and Felicity wrapped a towel around him as he began to shiver.  
“Come on, dry yourself off. I’ll get you some fresh clothes.” She made her way out of the bathroom navigating the minefield of broken glass towards his bedroom. What would he want to wear? She should’ve asked him. She stuck with something simple and grabbed his usual button up with black pants before closing her eyes and shyly reaching in his drawer of undergarments. She gave herself time for the blush in her cheeks to die down before returning to the bathroom. She gently knocked on the door before slowly pushing it open.  
There he was. Standing there with only a towel wrapped around his waist as he scrolled through his phone with intent. She couldn’t stop herself from blushing yet again. This made her mad. No man should be able to have this kind control over her.  
“Umm… here’s your towel. I mean clothes.” She stuttered, tongue-tied.  
“Oh,” She had startled him, “Thank you. I appreciate that. I will be out in a moment. Start some tea if you’d like.” He rushed her out the door. Why was he doing this? It freaked him out a little as he realized he didn’t fully understand what had just happened. Did he just feel… humility because of a girl? Life was simpler when he didn’t have feelings.


End file.
